Eternal Days
by rachemma
Summary: It's the 76th annual Hunger Games and with President Snow oppressing the rebellion, only one Victor was crowned at the Quarter Quell. The Hunger Games continue. 5 over 2465. Or 1 over 493. That's the chances my name will be called out. I should feel relieved but I don't. Because I know that this year, this year, despite the chances in my favour, I will be Reaped. And I am.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins does (though I wish I do m(_ _)m).**

**A/N: Haha, wasn't sure whether or not I'd have to put that ^ but, better be safe than sorry :P This is my first fanfiction, having lived out my life so far in blissful ignorance of such an idea. Now that I've found it, it has nearly taken over my life -_- Damn people for writing such interesting stories! **

**This is rated T but has some swearing in it. Not much though... Unless I find myself in a particulary bad mood ;)**

**Please read, enjoy, favourite (yes, I'm English, I spell things like that - sorry, won't be calling taps 'faucets' anytime soon... If I can even get that in my story), follow and REVIEW ^^ **

* * *

The lights of District 3 forever shine, creating an illusion of a never-ending day; only in blackouts will night seem to exist. I stand in my too – small apartment, one of the three hundred packed in like sardines in this particular, which towers above most of the city. District 3 has the smallest ground space out of them all, so we were forced to build up, higher and higher, trying to touch the skies. I press my hand against the room's window and then my forehead, sighing as I feel the cold. It calms me somehow. My breath creates condensation on the window, which I write in unconsciously as I make it.

Outside, even though it's only 4am, still quite early for District 3, an umbrella of woven lights, stretched across the sky of the city like an umbrella, keeps the city bright. District 5 provides the power for them as long as we provide the electronics to make it. An alliance formed from necessity rather than mutual liking of one another. There are hardly any Districts who truly feel affections towards one another. The Hunger Games ruined whatever loyalty we felt before.

I reach across and draw the curtains – blackout curtains – which I paid a high price for on visiting District 8 a while back – on government business of course. My acquaintances, I and call them that because that's all they really are, don't particularly understand my interest in the darkness, having grown up in only the light. I don't really understand it either, my nightmares, after all, only attack once I shroud myself in it. My eyes adjust to the darkness immediately, this is more than just a ritual, it's _training_. My chances of being Reaped this year aren't particular high again, but stranger things have happened. Two years ago, a twelve-year old girl was Reaped. Her name was only entered once. That night, I watched all the Hunger Games from the first, using a variety of video tapes, DVDs and hacked files online. That was when I realised just what a disadvantage our District was at. If we were forever in the light, how could we prepare for the darkness?

Sitting cross-legged on the cold floor in the middle of my one room, I just waited for the hours to pass, listening to the ticking of my watch. 7269 seconds later, I arose. Pausing to open my door, I looked back at the darkness, threatening but also alluring.

"Be right back." I murmur, before slamming the door shut behind me. A small voice pipes up in my head, that I might not even come back, but I shut it down before it even has a chance to finish its sentence. I know the odds, just like everyone else does. They're all posted on a board in the middle of the city. There are 2465 female names in this year's draw. I have only been entered five times. I have no need for tesserae despite the blatant poverty in our District. Five over two thousand four hundred and sixty five. Or one over four hundred and ninety three. So says the logic anyway. I let the feeling of relief wash over me as I take the stairs, knowing that others can't have this bliss.

* * *

"Akia Kaine." I say when I get to the front of my line. The Peacekeeper looks up, a vague look of recognition in his eyes. He abandons it after a second, reaching out to take my hand. Unlike other years, I no longer have to go through the pain of being signed in through blood. This year, they scan a barcode imprinted on the under-side of my left wrist. My name and face pops up with a _ding_ and he nods before letting me past into the Reaping building. I rub at my wrist tentatively, remembering the wave of scorching heat when they branded me. It was gone in seconds, but it wasn't a pleasant experience. A small price to pay for not having to use your blood for any of the important things anymore.

I reach my so-called 'pen', the code '16F' on the gate. There are some seats, right at the back, but only the really nervous ones who look like they're about to vomit take them. The rest of us stand, tapping foots and chewing nails. I briefly consider the glare of a stylist if they ever saw my nails. Bitten to the shortest stump available without drawing blood, they, no doubt, would be horrified. I shake my head, scolding myself for thinking such thoughts. I lean against the metal railings separating the groups of us, careful to not overstep the boundaries as a Peacekeeper regards me with mild interest. There's a look in his eye. _Don't cross that line_. And I don't.

No-one talks to each other. Apart from the initial buzz from the new twelve-year olds who step out of line and stumble into the wrong pens, the rest of us are silent, giving each other glances as if to say 'Good luck'. A few times I am tempted to mouth back at the worried glances 'And may the odds be ever in your favour'. But I don't think they'd forgive me for that. Especially today. So I keep my mouth shut, biting my lip – an annoying habit I acquired from my father. It shows that I do worry. It shows that I am weak.

And I can't be.

* * *

The trumpets in the Capitol music blare louder than usual. But maybe that's because the hall is so silent. Milliseconds later I spot our escort, her eyes closed, mouthing words. I make some out before I get bored. There is a point in this, even if it's only to prove that my vision is heightened. I feel myself relaxing despite the rigid position I am in. Someone behind me lets out a strangled sob. I don't turn around. I don't feel pity. I don't feel anything but anger. _Idiot_.

The escort finally steps forward in all of her glory. Electrifying blue hair that reaches her waist tumbles in corkscrews, her bright pulsating hot pink outfit contrasting greatly with everything else. Then again, the Capitol has never been renowned for colour matching abilities. My eyes flit back up to her face, after watching her totter up to the microphone on heels at least six inches tall, finding it powdered white, blushing a deep red and her lips a soft purple colour. I save her eyes for last, knowing that they'll be as eccentric as the rest of her. She wears white contacts rimmed with black that are bigger than the usual iris, probably scaring the younger ones here, and peacock feathers as eyelashes. I frown, I'm sure they were extinct... Her voice breaks through my pondering, a fierce Capitol accent hurting my ears. I pity whoever has to put up with her ramblings for the week before the Games.

"Welcome, welcome, ladies and gentlemen," she says, referring to the parents and inhabitants of District 3 behind our pens, not bothering to address us. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour." She claps her hands together in glee. The sound echoes through the building. "Now, before we begin, we have a special video for you all the way from the Capitol."

She stands back and a screen flickers on. I ignore the video, turning away, wishing that some idiot from the Capitol would change the script a little. It gets a bit old after a while. President Snow's voice slices through the hall, almost as if he was with us. I see him in my mind, lips smiling, eyes dead. He's appeared in many of my nightmares, especially in the past year after the second Quarter Quell. If anybody never realised just how cruel he was and could be, they did after last year's Hunger Games. Katniss Everdeen, the 'Girl on Fire', was the sole survivor again. Peeta Mellark was dead. This time, they made sure only one of them remained alive. Capitol mourned for a while, for the loss of their pet love, but then they quickly accepted it, reasoning that it had been unfair on the rest of the Districts anyway, letting two of them survive. Beetee and Wiress died last year too, so I knew that there were no formal mentors for District 3 – maybe we'd borrow them from another district. No, Capitol wouldn't be that stupid. Or, at least, I hope they wouldn't be. Pairing up mentors and tributes from different districts would be catastrophic, the tributes wouldn't have a chance of surviving past the pedestal.

The video ends with one of Snow's chillingly smiles and I shut my eyes, trying to erase it from my memory. It doesn't work, his face imprinted in the back of my mind. At this point, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if someone had tattooed his face to the under side of my eyelids; his face is one that never leaves your mind.

"I just love that part." the escort sighs. I narrow my eyes, still sticking to the script, then.

"Now," She sounds cheery and excited. "As usual, ladies first!"

One cannot forget manners, even at a time like this, apparently. She reaches down into the the fish-bowl marked 'F', rising up from the floor on a pink pillar. I snigger inappropriately at the generic colours. I hate pink. Her fingers finally find a slip. She pulls it out of the bowl and starts to bring it up. Another slip drifts down to the floor. She accidentally picked up two. I want to swear and scream out loud. So much fucking tension. Her cheeks are more red than before which I didn't think was possible.

"Okay." her voice is shaking. "Let's just pick out another one, shall we?"

No-one answers her.

Her hand dives in more quickly this time, pulling up a slip, carefully making sure that there's only one in her hand. She holds it at an arm's length. I wonder if she's long-sighted or something. She smiles. She must've gotten it right this time.

Her voice is crisp and clear despite her Capitol accent.

For once I wish it wasn't.

"Akia Kaine!"

* * *

I close my eyes.

So this is the extent of my luck.

_One over four hundred and ninety three. So says the logic anyway._

Fuck logic.

I open my eyes.

And smile brightly.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! R&R!**

**Rachemma**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does, yaddiyaddiyada...**

**A/N: So this is the 2nd chapter. Originally it was two but then I decided to meld it into one because... well.. it didn't seem long enough for two chapters. Thanks for reading, make sure to favourite, follow and REVIEW 3 It'll make my day! Thanks!**

* * *

I look straight at the cameras as they follow me, walking out of my pen before turning towards the stage. I give them a smile, a toothy one, making sure my eyes crinkle enough to make it believable. I'm still going around the odds in my head. One over four hundred and ninety-three. And the chance that it was me on either of the two slips that were put back in are mind-bogglingly small. The chance that I would be pulled out twice. I calculate it in my head as I approach the stairs. I walk up them as gracefully as I can.

One over two hundred and forty-three thousand and forty nice. I don't even want to think about the odds that all three were my name. I know that it's the stupid escort's fault that I'm here. I would've never been picked if not for his clumsiness.

She meets me at the top of the stairs, taking her arm around my waist. I'm not shaking, and she looks at me strangely, almost like she was expecting it. Leading me to the centre of the stage, she lets me go to stand awkwardly as she speaks into the microphone.

"And so we have our female Tribute for District 3!" she cries out excitedly. I reach and grab the microphone from her, knowing that the Capitol want me to do something, anything, that'll put me aside from the rest. I look at the pens then to the camera and put on my sweetest face and voice.

"My name is Akia and I'm 16 years old." I wink at the camera. "It's _very _nice to meet you all."

Then I stand back, still looking unflinchingly into the crowd. They don't recognise me, the girl who's usually a mess. Look at me now.

The – _my_, I remind myself – escort looks pleased with my performance.

"And now for the boys."

She picks a name out and I struggle not to strangle her there and then. She doesn't drop the boys' Reaping now, does she?

"Zaine Herste!"

A boy's head from the 18M section suddenly jerks up. Even from on the stage, I can see him gulp. I look down, afraid my glaring will scare away sponsors. Zee – or whatever his name is – needs to man up and look confident. I hear our escort move towards the opposite end of the stage, greeting him with a few words that reflect my own thoughts. "Look strong."

I look over to them as he walks over, thinking how completely different he is to me. And yet, we both manage to not fit in with District 3's ideals. I have platinum blonde hair to the point of it being called 'white' by children, he is a bright, fiery and bold red-head even without hair dye. His eyes are more in keeping with District 3, a light hazel colour, whereas mine are a cold unforgiving ice blue. I close my eyes, breathing through my nose as I remember a memory I had stored away for what seems like an eternity

* * *

_My mother stands in front of me. I'm only nine years old now. She buttons up my dress, for the Reaping, but not for mine. For _his_. She smiles, a hand caressing my cheek and I lean into it. I hate actions like this, it makes everything seem so final. Like we're saying goodbye. She stares at my eyes and I do the same, wondering why we're so different._

_"Cold ice blue eyes," she whispers, mesmerised. I flinch, almost wanting to apologise for my genes. My heart stops at what she says next._

_ "I'm glad you have them. Capitol'll like them. They make you less vulnerable." She nods as she speaks these words. I frown. The Capitol? Why would they ever see them? _

* * *

It all makes sense now. Mother always thought ahead, she probably guessed that I'd be Reaped. She was always a pessimist like that. Or maybe a realist. I turn to our escort, who's been saying things to both of us whilst I've been in my own little world. A hand is outstretched towards me. My fellow Tribute's. I take it, shake it once, before smiling and pulling him towards me. He stumbles and I take that chance. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek, before pushing him back away and looking down at my feet, trying to act shy.

Capitol always loves a show. So whilst I'm in it, I might as well give them a good one.

* * *

I have to wait for an hour in a stuffy room. As I expected, no-one comes to say goodbye. Maybe some people'll regret that when I die. Through the walls, I can hear crying and screaming which makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. I grip the bottom of my chair, my body tensing up, waiting for this all to be over. I'd much rather be on my way, on the train to my certain doom than listening to this. Listening to Zaine's screaming mourners, and listening to the silence of my non-existent ones. The door slams shut and I jump up, standing now, before walking to the wall that separates our rooms. The screaming has stopped, meaning only one thing. We'll be going soon.

I don't wait for someone to open the door, I fling it open, spotting my escort and walking over to her. I make it seem like I'm excited. Excited to see the Capitol. And I am. I'm just not too excited about the rest of this. The killings. Being killed. But I shrug it off. Being scared scares off sponsors. And this is how I'll live the rest of my short life, trying to get sponsors to extend it by just a little bit.

_How pathetic._

* * *

I sleep for the first part of our train ride. Jolting awake at the sudden lack of movement, I blink wearily out of the window. My heart thumps in my chest. District 2. We're picking up their Tributes now. They'll be in the cart in front of us, no doubt – Capitol likes its order after all. Stretching, I get up from the best sleep I've possibly had in my life. Even the seats are more comfy than my mattress, despite having to sleep upright. Across from me, I spot Zaine, still oblivious to the world. We didn't talk much when everyone was introducing themselves. Maybe it's because he felt awkward after I kissed him on the cheek. I shrug, he should get used to playing his role soon enough. Adapt or die is my philosophy for the Games. Our escort – Laurel Combe – is sleeping too, a pretty satin 'eye-mask' (at least, that's what she calls it) to block out the light. Zaine and I didn't need them, though we were offered, we are pretty used to sleeping in bright places being from District 3.

I walk towards the door, the one I came through to get into this carriage. Right now it holds no interest, I've already exhausted anything worth being excited over. Besides, Zaine ate all the cakes whilst I was asleep. I tap in the code I found out when we first arrived – the doors were built with District 3 technology – and it opens, sliding into the wall. I step through and jump down the steps onto District 2's station floor. It's solid stone that shines in the sunlight. Figures. Our station was solid metal wherever you went. I wonder what District 8's station would be made out of... Carpet? I laugh, shaking my head.

Pacing around back and forth to stretch my legs, I blink up at the Sun. Only on rare days do we see it; the lights of the net make the Sun blend in with them. The last time I saw the Sun by itself was... years ago. I blink. Then again and again. I want to try to store this Sun in my memory, wishing that I had a photographic memory for the first time in my life. There have been so many things I've wanted to forget, and now there's finally something I want to remember.

I turn back towards the train, admiring it for a second before walking to the carriage in front of ours. I jump up, my fingers grabbing onto the ledge at the bottom of the window, pressing my face against it to take a look. Inside, I see no-one and notice nothing has been touched. So District 2 hasn't arrived yet. My mouth waters at the sight of the cakes which I had no chance to devour. I feel a flash of rage directed at Zaine. Smirking, an idea pops into my head and I drop down.

_What the heart does not know, the mind does not grieve after, _I remind myself. Instead of going back to my own carriage, minding my own business, I jump up the stairs to theirs. I study the keyboard next to their door, which has a big, shiny '2' carved into it. I wonder if ours has a '3', I didn't notice before. Hacking the system is easy, literally child's play – we learned how to open these doors on our first days of school. Within ten seconds I find myself standing in front of the buffet table, all laid out neatly, tempting me to just take one cake. Instead of just one cake, I take a plateful, piling cake upon cake on it. Soon I have a pyramid of cakes, a cupcake covered in cream is on top so I can quickly swipe some cream off of it whenever I like. I smile happily, too overjoyed to care about killing Zaine anymore. Stepping out of the room, I reset the system, shutting the door, before half-skipping down the steps with glee. Walking down the side of the train, I suddenly notice I'm not alone on the platform. With my finger still in my mouth from licking the cream, I turn slightly to face the new people.

They stand easily ten metres away, two small and two tall, as they watch me apprehensively. The District 2 Tributes, and, as I glance at the two other figures, one normal-looking guy and one not-so-normal purple guy, their mentor and escort respectively. The female Tribute glares at me, muttering something I can't quite catch from this far away. She's prettier than me, even at this distance I know that, with light brown hair tumbling down her shoulders and an hourglass figure, I doubt that my personality can stand up to her looks. Sponsors will be clambering all over themselves to give money if it meant helping her. The male Tribute looks more amused than annoyed, but I know that one of District 2's strengths is their ability to hide their emotions so well. I catch his gaze and don't look away, letting my hand fall to my side. As expected of District 2, he's also handsome, and full of muscles. They're more subtle than in previous years I have seen, not rippling as he moves slightly, but you can easily tell that he's strong. And confident. He is the personification of confidence. His lips are upturned slightly, his eyes meeting mine almost as if this is a competition of gazes. I stop it, picking up the cupcake I've been licking cream off and tossing it up and down in my hand, testing its weight. I decide on the right power to use on it to get to its destination. I swing my arm overhead and let the cupcake fly, before it lands in his hand, ready to catch it almost as if it was a baseball. I close my eyes, bowing slightly before swinging myself into my own carriage, meeting the eyes of a worried Zaine.

I meet his eyes as I stuff a small cake into my mouth, almost as if to say,

_This will be the last kind thing I do to another person. _

And it will. I assure you of that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. I only own my created characters, like Akia and Zaine.**

**A/N: So this is the 3rd chapter! :D I've decided that I'll be updating every 3/4 days, depending on how much work my school piles on me and if I have exams coming (which I do -_-) I'd like to thank a few people for showing interest in my story already ^^ **

**Thanks to LadyDunla for following and reviewing, to kb5000 for following, favouriting AND reviewing (WOW :D), and finally to goldie031 for following ^^ It makes me feel really happy and motivated when I see I have a new email from FanFiction hehe. **

**I've had this chapter for a few days, I started writing it as soon as I got my first review (I wasn't kidding about it motivating me :P) so I'm a chapter ahead of this. I might update more quickly with more reviews *hint hint* XD**

**ANYWAY. I hope you enjoy reading and if you do, please feel free to follow, favourite and review! Thanks!**

**-R (- ahaha this makes me feel like a mentor/sponsor :3)**

* * *

Capitol appears on the horizon, as ostentatious as I expected it. Tall skyscrapers rise from the city line, taller and more elegant than ours. Also thinner than ours, looking almost like they could be snapped in two by a powerful wind. I smirk, imagining it, wondering what the Capitol citizens would do when their precious city began to collapse from above them. It's a nice thought.

Zaine's still watching me with apprehensive eyes, still wondering what I was thinking, stealing from District 2. I told him to back off and let me eat my cakes in peace. He at least gave me that freedom. I glare frostily at him, making him avert his eyes. _Mind your own fucking business_. I go back to staring out the window, trying to alleviate my boredom unsuccessfully. The landscape looks nothing like District 3's, only making my homesickness more and more harder to bear. I almost consider talking to Zaine at this point, wondering if he's also feeling homesick. I shake my head, that's a bad idea. I don't realise I spoke aloud until he answers my question.

"Yeah." he says quietly. I turn to face him with widened eyes. He doesn't elaborate and I don't question him further. If I want to get out alive, he's one of the people who will be sacrificed. No point getting to know someone who's only going to haunt your nightmares at a later stage.

We get closer and then suddenly, Capitol vanishes, replaced by a darkness that can only mean we're in a tunnel. I hear Zaine's breathing get distinctly more strained. Not so used to the darkness then. I walk over to Laurel and shake her shoulders, causing her head to bob from side to side, making her hair move like waves on the sea. For a split second, I am mesmerised by it. Having never seen the ocean, this is the closest I've been to seeing it. She wakes up, murmuring something under her breath. Her eyes suddenly fly open and I take a step back, still disgusted by her white contacts. She blinks in the darkness, sitting up straight and pulling her clothes to eradicate any creases.

"We're nearly here." she announces, standing up, half-falling over because she didn't realise she was still wearing heels. She gets her balance back quite easily, flushing.

"Will there be a welcoming party?" I ask, an eyebrow raised.

"Why of course!" she gushes, her face filling with a beaming smile. She looks excited to see people who at least understand her fashion sense. I know I never will. I walk over to the window, ready to start the act. Grabbing Zaine's hand, I pull it up to rest on the window-sill, moving it so it covers my own. He looks up, blushing furiously, the red contrasting with his pale skin. At least we have that in common, my skin is pale enough to be mistaken as sickly all the time. It did get me out of some lessons though. I give him a grin.

"Let's give them a grand show, right?"

He nods and then we are thrust into brightness that blinds my eyes.

* * *

The crowds who have gathered at the Capitol's main station are massive. They stand on four different tiers, screaming at the top of their voices. We are being looked at from everywhere and I shove the feeling to run aside. Waving with my hand that isn't being currently pinned to the window-sill, I reach over and grab a handle, subsequently opening the window. The roar is deafening. We both reach out to grab the hands of the citizens as we pass by slowly, letting them have a good look at us. They catch our hands and fingers, screaming as they do. I can only watch as some sink to the floor on contact with our fingers. The slightest brush against theirs sends them into a frenzy.

As I look out, I find myself frowning and smiling at the same time, trying to take in their appearances as normal. I'm going to have to get used to the clown costumes if I want to feel comfortable around them, giving an interview with one of them.

Laurel stands behind us, patting us on the back, letting us know just how well we're doing. She leans between us, whispering something in our ears.

"Just look at that. Aren't you just the pride of Panem?"

I follow her gaze and gasp when I see what she's looking at. Our faces. Projected onto a wall behind the crowds that must be as big as some of the buildings in District 3. I laugh, lifting up my hand still entwined with Zaine's, and whack his shoulder, getting his attention. I pull our hands to point at the wall, and I watch as the confusion on his face turns to awe. The camera zooms in on our hands, then back towards our faces. And I finally see what they see. They see a girl and a boy in awe of the city, the crowds and the attention they're getting; they see kids trying to make the most of their possible last days of their lives. They see life coursing through their bodies. They see it radiating off of them, giving the crowds that touch them some of their power.

And I believe it. I believe that this feeling I am experiencing is pure, untainted life.

But then the unwelcome reality hits.

This isn't life.

_This is preparing for death._

* * *

I walk confidently out of the train, a skip in my step. Peacekeepers have marked off aisles for us to walk down, thirteen of them, with Capitol citizens in between, all pushing and shoving to get a better look at us. Turning around, I stop for the cameras and for autographs. I shake hands with people as we walk down in awe of how highly they regard us.

_Not highly enough, obviously, _The voice in my head pipes in, _Considering they're sending you to your death._

_Shut up. _I tell it.

From the corner of my eye, I see the District 2 Tributes make their way down an aisle to my left. The only thing that separates us from those murderers are a few metres of people. I suddenly don't feel as safe as I did on the train. At least I had a whole lot of metal in between us then. The girl turns around, her eye catching mine, and her expression suddenly turns darker. Smirking, I raise my hand up and wave, jabbing Zaine in the gut to make him do the same. Her expression sours even more.

I have a feeling that I'll have some fun whilst I'm here. Might as well piss a few people off. That's usually how I get my fun back home.

* * *

We're ushered into different rooms, and for the first time in a few days, I am completely alone. The last time was when I was waiting for them to hurry up and send us packing on our way. But no, they waited until Zaine's family had screamed their hearts out. I sit down on the only available chair in the room, only to find straps fixing themselves to my wrists and ankles. Before I can help it, my throat is hurting from screaming. The metal bites into my wrists as I yank them this way and that, but I don't care, I don't care, _I don't care. _I just have to get out. Get away from this. Before the electricity flows into my body, a hand touches my shoulder, throwing me out of my self-made illusion. I am breathing heavily, sweat beads slowly inching their way down my chest into my top and soaking up there. My eyes flick from place to place, I'm too agitated to keep them in one place. Someone whispers things into my ear, trying to comfort me, I think, but it doesn't work. Until something pinches my cheek. I snap out of it immediately, finding jade green eyes staring down at me, searching for something.

My breathing and heart-rate slows down to just above normal, which I suppose is normal in this situation. The eyes narrow before moving to look at my body, which somehow has been relieved of all my clothes. At once, I am self-conscious, my hands fighting the restraints so that I can bring them up to my chest. The green-eyed woman clicks her fingers, and immediately swarms of people stumble to get a closer look. Soon, I can feel a painful sensation everywhere and hear the sound of ripping paper. By the time the pain is gone, I'm sat with not a single out-of-place hair on my body. I scowl at the stinging sensation that remains, but compared to _that_, I really can't call it pain. People force my hands open and tut at my fingernails, covered in blood from when they first secured me into the chair. It seems even with no fingernails I can still harm myself.

"What stumps..." one of them breathes, clicking her tongue in annoyance. They scrub them and every inch of my body at least three times, scraping off old and new skin cells alike. I hiss as the hot water is poured on my body for the final time. It's too hot in such a cold room. Too many extremes. The green-eyed woman, quiet from sketching in a sketch pad in the corner, suddenly pipes up.

"'Kay. I think we're good now. I'll call you back if I see anything that I want changed." I notice her voice doesn't have an over the top Capitol accent. It's there, but only barely. The restraints retract when we're left alone and I immediately move to cover up my body, blushing furiously. Something is tossed and it lands on my head, grabbing it, I move it over my body, before noticing it's a robe. I slip it on, thankful. The woman stretches out her hand, a stony expression on her face. It takes me a minute to realise that she wants to shake my hand. Carefully, I take her hand and move mine up and down, all the time wondering if I'm putting too little or too much pressure on. She takes her hand away quickly, shoving the sketchbook towards me, getting straight to the point.

"I'm Venonia. Your stylist. I'm the one designing your dress for tonight. For the parade." she says dryly, "The time we get to show you off as our new toy."

I nod quickly, the world blurring as I do. I think about all the past Tributes, my mind flitting to the most memorable ones, and all that come to my mind are their images in the parade; the importance of the parade cannot be overlooked.

She must see this in my eyes because the next thing I'm hearing is her chuckle. There is a glint in her eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm going to make you memorable."

* * *

I step out of the elevator, donning my dress, anxious to find Zaine. As I run around like a headless chicken, I catch sight of myself in the mirror and smile. The dress is simple, hugging my curves, with one side covered with shining jewels that shine in the light. Half of my platinum blonde hair is piled on top of my head, the other half cascading down in ringlets. I wear high heeled boots, white as well, that remind of the types of clothing I'd see in an old futuristic movie. I save my face for last, savouring the feeling of feeling actually pretty for the first time in my life. The make-up is mostly nude, the lipstick making my lips seem lighter than they actually are, the white glimmering eye-shadow making my eyes seem larger than they are and making my face overall look more innocent. I nervously glance down when I see my eyes, a brighter blue than I've ever seen them, thanks to the contacts that I've been forced to wear.

"Only for tonight." I whisper, remembering Venonia's words. She promised after this that I'd be able to throw them away and never wear them again. I consider for a second why I trusted her in the first place. Beats me.

I shrug and tilt my chin up, remembering just how much everyone loves confidence. This time, instead of running, I stride, taking long steps to show off my legs. _Take your strengths and utilise them to the full tonight._ That's what everyone's been telling me.

So, my strengths: long legs.

Check.

Confidence.

Check.

Personality.

Check.

The art of being able to surprise anybody.

I bite my lip.

_Check._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does.**

**A/N: I already had this ready, and because I felt like it, it's uploaded. Is this soon enough, LadyDunla? :P Thanks for your review! **

**I could only think of one thing when I wrote this chapter, and it was, to quote from Madagascar: 'Smile and eave, boys. Smile and wave.' Haha**

**Hope you enjoy reading, so please follow, favourite and review. It motivates me!**

**-R**

* * *

When Zaine sees me, he does a double-take. I almost do too at him, but manage to compose myself. He's beetroot red like he's never seen a girl wearing a dress before. I give him a cocky grin.

"Not too shabby," I comment, my eyes wandering up and down his body. He wears a clean white blazer, white trousers and silver shoes. My mouth dries when I see he has no shirt on. Silver powder has been spread across his chest, slightly visible by the lack of shirt. If he doesn't look expensive and modern to the crowd, just like technology should, I don't know what to think of them.

He steps up onto the chariot first, bending down to help me up, being the gentleman he is. I take it, not wanting to pass up the opportunity. The more touchy we are with each other, the more we'll get used to it. This acting as if we have genuine feelings for each other, romantic or otherwise. My mind flicks back to Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. Fake romance made them Victors. Genuine romance killed one of them. Zaine pulls me up with more force than I'd anticipated and I stumble in the heels, falling onto him. He takes a step back out of habit, like he's used to girls falling over him, and then straightens me. I suddenly find myself fiddling with one of my ringlets, not quite sure what to say.

I open my mouth to say something, _anything_, and then shut it quickly, realising everyone in the room is listening and watching everything I say and do. _Since when did they get so nosy? _I ask myself, feeling the urge to bare my teeth at the rest of the Tributes. Thankfully, my anger issues aren't as bad as some of us here as the District 2 boy punches his chariot, his fist pulling back stained with blood. I don't like the look of the blood dripping down his hand, so I act on a reflex. Jumping back down, I approach them, my fingers tangling in my dress, ripping a piece of material from it. I hear protests from my prep team and roll my eyes. Taking the District 2 boy's hand, I wrap the material around his knuckles tightly, wordlessly.

He watches me with mock interest.

"Get someone to look at it after the Parade."

One of his eyebrows cocks up, a smirk finding its way to his lips. I turn around after I pull it tight in a swift motion, making him wince. _Bastard_. I make my way back to my chariot and as I step back on it, my eyes find his. Without thinking, I call over to him as an explanation.

"Who knows? You might've gotten an infection. Can't let my opponent have a handicap now, right?"

I cock my head to the side, keeping my face poker straight, going for the innocent act. He barks out laughter, his hand crushing his District Partner's arm more forcefully than needed. But she's not concentrating on him, she's watching me furiously. Her anger issues aren't particularly controlled, just like his, her wrath reaching me in waves. I give her a small wave bye-bye as she yelps, whipping around to face the front of her chariot, as he spins her to look at him.

_Kind of like a child who's been deprived of attention. _

That's my first impression of the Careers. Cocky bastards desperate for attention. It's going to be the same as every other year, then.

* * *

Claudius Templesmith watches the Parade room with mild interest, staring at the black-and-white footage streamed from the CCTV camera in it. Nothing interesting happens when getting ready for the Parade, people step on each other's toes, rip their dresses and generally complain about how idiotic they look. District 8 look particularly stupid this year, their dress and suit round with lots of string tied around it. Imagine a spool of thread and that's them. Complete with a giant thimble each as hats. Templesmith might have laughed years ago, but costumes nowadays are so generic that there's no point. He gives them all a once-over.

District 1; flashy, flamboyant, pink and cold. And feathers. Lots of random feathers. At least they look pleased with the monstrosity they are wearing.

District 2; gladiators _again._

District 3; white and clean cut. Nothing special though. Playing it safe.

District 4; fish. Nothing new.

The list goes on.

Even this year's District 12 are stupid, dressed in miner's uniforms for the umpteenth time. _Nothing like Katniss Everdeen, _he finds himself thinking. Then again, he doesn't think anyone can ever be her again. Johanna and her. The two most well-known winners for surprising the crowds. Nobody will ever be able to replace them.

And then he notices something on the small CCTV screen. A movement that usually would've evaded his eyes. It was lucky he kept his eyes nearer the front of the Parade otherwise he would've missed it. Something glints in his eyes as he spots the District 3 female walk up to the District 2 male. She's putting something on his hand, which, Templesmith notices, he has injured. Grinning, Templesmith looks down at the list of names on the desk in front of him. His eyes find their names.

_DISTRICT 2. Noah Seryth. Volunteer._

_ DISTRICT 3. Akia Kaine. Reaped._

Claudius Templesmith tests their names on his mouth, saying them in alphabetical order; he always did like things perfect and punctual.

"Akia and Noah."

Well at least he has something to bug Caesar Flickerman about. This is a great moment to be asked about in the interviews.

And then he watches with renewed interest as the chariots set off.

* * *

The doors to the Parade Hall open and I cannot help but feel my mouth drop open wide. As we go past, Laurel's having a fit about my dress which they had no chance to fix, about my expression and about my general attitude. I give her a serious salute as we roll forward, not quite as fast as I'd hoped.

As we enter the hall, it's apparent as to how much the Capitol _cares_. Not about us, of course, about the games. The hall is bigger than anything I've ever seen before, dwarfing even the four tiered station. Claudius Templesmith, recently promoted to doing all commentating on the games, in and out of them, shouts our District numbers as we enter, the audience responding by screaming it back. It would be wrong to say that it isn't daunting at all. Because it is. You freeze for a moment, wondering how the hell you're supposed to entertain such a large crowd. But it turns out to not be a problem at all. All you have to do, it seems, is smile and wave. So I do. And some of the crowd starts to shout my name so I plaster an even bigger fake smile on my face. But _some_ isn't enough, I want at least half of the crowd shouting my name, the other half shouting Zaine's. Most of the shouts are for District 2, who just stand there in all of their gold fucking glory. Bile rises up my throat and I force it down, trying to remember what Venonia told me before I left her care.

_"__If you feel like the crowd is ignoring you, press this button."_

Looking across at Zaine, I know he's thinking the same. I touch his arm, a small gesture to clam his nerves before I do something stupid. He seems to get what I'm trying to say, because he gives me a playful nudge to the edge of the chariot. He presses his button as I jump, and his suit starts to glow subtly. It makes him look powerful, confident and mysterious all at once. I can only hope that mine is brighter, matching my fake persona I've set up so carefully from the very beginning. A small glow won't be enough for me.

My feet hit the dusty floor, the heels retracting so as I can walk more easily over it, and I press my button. Light blinds me momentarily.

My dress is shining, not blinding thankfully – I would've killed Venonia if my eyesight had been damaged before the games. Instantly I'm reminded of District 3's safety blanket, its light umbrella, and I feel a sense of pride as I start to walk around. It really does feel like a hippodrome, despite being inside and not out.

Peacekeepers jump over the barriers into the track whilst chariots race past behind me, but I'm not planning on doing anything wrong. I instead ignore them, taking my time to walk slowly, my arm aching from waving. I tilt my head up to meet yet another camera focused on my face. The crowd loves it, loves my confidence, my bravery to do something only other Tributes have dreamed of, but most of all, they love _me_. They scream my name, then Zaine's, and when I turn, I see he's also abandoned the chariot, as crazy as I am. He's on the other side of the track, half a lap around from me, pleasing the crowd on that side. I know we only have a few laps to rile up the crowd, so I calculate what I do where. Running up the track, I see our faces on every projected screen. The crowd is no longer interested in the boring Tributes, safe in their little chariots that go around and around like a merry-go-round. Like all merry-go-rounds, it gets boring and predictable eventually. They're far more interested in us. We, the Tributes, who risked breaking limbs to see them more closely. It makes them feel special, and God knows they like special.

I blow kisses into the air in every direction, bar one, which goes straight for Zaine. He grins from across the track, catching it in his hand, letting it rest on his heart. Then I watch as he runs and throws himself onto our chariot, still going around, as gracefully as he can, luckily landing on his feet. It all looks heavily practised despite the fact that this is his first time. I back up, closing the distance between myself and the chariots. As I turn back around, the District 2 chariot passes, an angry chariot straight from the depths of Hell. But before I can even mock them, an arm snakes around my waist and yanks me. I'm suspended between flying and falling for a second, before my feet find the floor of our chariot. Zaine beams boyishly down at me, excitement reflected in his eyes and his now-messed up hair. Everybody will be talking about us, despite our plain costumes. But that doesn't matter, all that matters is crowd-pleasing. I've seen many a Victor win because of the overwhelming support of sponsors.

We line up with the other Tributes, us breathing slightly heavier that the rest of them. I act some more, aware of people documenting our every move, resting my head on Zaine's shoulder.

"Any trouble getting back on the chariot?" I murmur, worried about his shoulder muscles. He shakes his head, making me think he's used to strain on his arm muscles. Working with huge computer parts, maybe? My dress and Zaine's it fade as President Snow steps on the balcony. I raise an eyebrow at that.

_Wouldn't want to be out shined, _I think dryly, wanting to laugh out loud at my terrible pun.

The crowd falls silent, our names on the tips of their tongues and on their minds. Snow starts his speech, his voice echoing around the hall, but I become bored quickly, bouncing on the balls of my feet, fiddling with the rip of my dress. Unconsciously, I turn to the new owner of a piece of my dress. I glows faintly on his hand, making me wonder whether or not it was glowing brightly throughout the Parade. I cringe, hoping not. My help would be more obvious if it did. The smile playing on District 2's lips tells me that my fears are right.

_I'm glad this amuses you, _I think sarcastically, glaring.

* * *

And then we're moving back, the crowds deafening again. They scream and shout as Zaine and I disappear back through the doors we came out of and I immediately jump down, making my way to our escort. I can already hear what she's going to tell us.

_"__Aren't you just the pride of Panem!"_

* * *

**Just to quickly mention, I was thinking of doing a Clato fanfiction alongside this one because I love them (so much, so so so much) and I have the story planned in my head. So if you want me to publish it, either PM me or write it in your review and follow me as an author so you know when it comes out. Just a quick thought ;)**

**(Don't forget to follow, favourite and review!)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. I only own my own characters such as Akia and Zaine.**

**A/N: So this is a shorter chapter than usual - forgive me, my other fanfic is harder to write than this one because the plot is harder for me to come up with as I don't already know the story like I do here. To this, you're probably like 'Tut, tut, excuses, excuses...' I'M SORRY :/**

**Thanks to LadyDunla for reviewing, Guest for reviewing (you know who you are!... But I don't lol) and hareem94 for favouriting and following ME (I feel so happy .) AND also for favouriting and following this story. You guys are epic!**

**If you enjoyed reading, remember to favourite, follow and review to keep me motivated! And don't forget to check out my other fanfic if you like Clato (ClovexCato)!**

**-R**

* * *

As we stand amongst the other Tributes, my prep team wipes off my make-up and lets my hair tumble down into my normal style – messy and untouched. They hand me a white coat – there seems to be a pattern forming – and I put it on, revelling in its warmth. I hadn't realised it before, but I am shaking like a leaf. Zaine gives me a small smile as they toss a coat towards him, he's warmer than me, at least most of _his_ body was covered up. I try to talk, to tell them that I've had to deal with this cold before and eventually my body gets used to it, but words fail me. I try to move, but I stumble, falling for the second time that day, into Zaine's chest. His voice is husky in my ear.

"Let me help you." He says it so quietly I'm worried I misheard him, but then he dips down and picks me up, carrying me bridal-style. I protest using my eyes, now wide open from shock, but he just bites back a laugh. That's when we leave, failing to see the chaos we've left behind.

* * *

He set me down on my feet when we reached the car, which drove at stupid speeds to get to one of the many tall buildings in Capitol. I'm barely listening when she explains to us that its where we'll be staying, training and socialising before we're sent to our deaths. It's a beautiful building like the others and I can't help but press my hand against the window as we approach it. If it's this amazing outside, what will it be like inside? It certainly doesn't disappoint.

Marble covers every space available and pillars rise from the floor as if they've grown over years. I stare around in wonder, thinking back to our Justice Building – the most expensive building in our District – and it has nothing on this. It maybe compares to the small book a clerk writes in before showing up to the elevators. I'm used to riding in elevators, living on one of the highest floors in my block, I don't usually choose the stairs unless I'm forced to. Stopping at floor 3, Laurel pushes in front of us and punches in a code, which she tells us as the doors open, we need to actually get in our floor. It's so that the other Tributes can't get in and attack us whilst we're sleeping. I snort, and she scolds me but I ignore her, as if I can't easily get the codes to the other floors. She really needs to start putting some faith in us. Being from the Technology District has some benefits after all.

We walk into our room, met by a distinct lack of colours but white. I flash a grin at Zaine. They really go all out. It's white everywhere - even the cutlery laid out on the table I notice is white. I point out the colour scheme to Laurel and she shrugs.

"What's next?" I say, exasperated. "Dyeing Zaine's hair white?"

I regret it as soon as it comes out, because Laurel's face suddenly lights up like she has an idea. My head falls into my hand as Zaine springs up, shouting that he likes his natural hair. I try to stifle my laughter for as long as possible, but it bubbles to the surface without warning and I find myself clutching my stomach. They both look startled by my outburst and then Zaine's upbeat laughter joins in. I look up at Laurel, who's confused as hell, stuck between wanting to join in and wanting run away because we're completely crazy.

"Let's eat." she says as we calm down. I nearly groan, already sick of food. I've been gorging myself ever since the train and I'm sure Capitol wouldn't like an obese Tribute. Nevertheless, Laurel gets her wish, and food is piled high on plates, carried in by Avoxes. I watch them, horrified, having heard of them but unsure as to whether or not they were myths. Laurel's face scrunches up as she has to touch one's arm, to ask for alcoholic drinks more suited to her tastes, and I immediately want to go and punch her. A far cry from the feeling I'd just experienced with Zaine.

We eat in silence, unsure of ourselves, distrusting what may come out of our mouths if we open them. Only one thought comes to my mind throughout the meal.

_Awkwaaard._

* * *

The evening is uneventful and whether this is relieving or worrying, I'm not sure. But I'm at least thankful for it. I doubt I could handle any more excitement for the day. As I change into my pyjamas, I mourn for the lack of hair on my body. I don't know why they had to wax it all. It's not like it was black or anything. I'm freezing for a second before I slip under the covers of my bed. White, of course.

I'm falling asleep when a quiet knock on the door jolts me back into consciousness. I groan loudly for effect as I get back up, my feet sinking into the gloriously soft carpet. I briefly consider whether or not I should just ignore the idiot standing outside my door and curl up into a ball on the carpet instead. But reason wins over my selfishness and I open the door to find Zaine pacing up and down the corridor. Leaning against the door frame, I wonder what he's going to be like the night before the games if he's already this freaked out. He sees me suddenly, paling as I yawn and rub my eyes. I barely notice that he isn't wearing a shirt, and I wonder if I'm supposed to care or not. Blush or something. He opens his mouth and then shuts it.

"What?" I manage to ask.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

I roll my eyes. "No, I was just pacing around like you"- his eyes widen -"Of course I was asleep! Well... nearly!"

He suddenly finds the floor more interesting than me.

"Sorry." he mutters softly.

"S'okay." I mumble back.

There is silence for a while. I groan internally. _Why do we both have to be so fucking socially awkward?!_

I cough. "So..."

His head whips up, as if suddenly remembering he came here for a reason.

He clears his throat. "When do you think we'll meet our mentor?"

I jerk awake quickly. _Shit_. I had forgotten about that.

Banging my fist against the nearest wall, I startle Zaine by snarling.

"_Dammit! _All the other Tributes are probably fucking working out strategies already! And we haven't even met our mentor yet!"

He raises his hands in mock defence.

"Don't shoot the messenger."

I snap.

"I'm not going to shoot you." He breathes a sigh of relief. "I'm going to rip your fucking head off!"

Chuckling flatly, he towers over me, his eyes glinting with amusement. He pokes the spot between my eyebrows, creased because of my snarling expression. He waves over his shoulder as he retreats. Leaving me, he whispers darkly,

_"__We'll see."_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. I own my own characters like Akia and Zaine though.**

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while - I got caught up with my other story and then when I finally tried to update, I found myself in bed with a flu that I still have. So yeah... Illness sucks...**

**Hope you enjoy reading, please favourite, follow, review, all that good stuff!**

**-R**

* * *

As per usual, my body clock rings loudly at 4am. Annoyed, I sit up, knowing that I can't get back to sleep. I've tried it before, and it only resulted in me losing hours in which I could've been doing something else. Like studying. Or studying. I didn't do much else but study and train in District 3. Though I occasionally hacked into the machines in the underground arcades, but I doubted that Capitol had any of those. Or at least arcades that I could afford.

I swing my feet out of bed, stretching as I do, smiling as the soft mattress sinks slightly as I shift my weight.

_I could get used to this_, I think.

Tiptoeing to the piece of furniture that looks vaguely like the wardrobe I own at home, only at least three times its size, I open the drawers, sliding them out with ease. Nothing catches on dents in this wardrobe. I pull out the only clothing I can find, a one-piece suit, with a zip going half down my side. Checking the other drawers, I find much of the same, replicas and replicas of this one design. So this must be my training outfit. They wouldn't give us something so flimsy for the games. Taking off my pyjamas and pulling it on, it clings to my skin tightly, hugging my body, revealing my protruding ribs. It was worse a few days ago; I've put on a little bit of weight since being here. I used to go days without eating but here, I can't even if I wanted to.

My mouth salivates at the thought of food. Slipping on some pumps, I sneak down the corridor to the kitchen-diner. The floor is mostly open-plan so I think, more accurately, it would be a kitchen-diner-living-sitting-room. An Avox is already stood by the door, ready to receive any wishes I may have. She notices me as I rummage in the fridge, looking for any leftovers from the night before. I turn to her.

"Where's all the food gone?"

She makes a cross with her arms, gesturing to the bin. My mouth falls open.

"They put it in the _bin_?!" I screech, shocked that they waste so much food when most Districts are starving. She flinches at my outburst. I rub my temples.

"Fine. Can you just get me whatever you'd usually serve for breakfast. And a warm drink." She nods and jabs the lift button. Before the doors close, I remember something.

"ONLY SMALL PORTIONS THOUGH! ONLY ENOUGH FOR ONE PERSON!" The doors shut and I stand there, hoping she heard what I shouted. I'm surprised a few minutes later when the doors open again, and she walks in pushing a trolley. I sit at the table, raising an eyebrow at what they call 'small portions'. But I'm too hungry to care, so I ignore the guilty feeling that seeps into my stomach at the same time my food does, and finish it in a matter of minutes. I try the hot drink she brought me to wash it all down, relishing in its sweet and rich taste.

"What's it called?" I ask, my hand covering my mouth a second later when I realise how impertinent that comment was.

"I'm sorry." I apologise quickly, standing up to find something. There's a pad with a pen on the coffee table so I grab and bring it back. Shoving it into her hands, I fiddle with my fingernails, miraculously long from some sort of chemical they put on them and too hard to bite. She scribbles something on the pad, turning it around to show me.

_Hot chocolate_.

I can't hide my smile.

"Can you get some for me in a flask?" I ask, grinning.

She nods jerkily and rummages for something in the kitchen cupboards. She's obviously used to the kitchen because before I can ask another question, she's there, pouring some more 'hot chocolate' into a container. She presses it into my waiting hands and scuttles off in the direction of my room. She drags a cleaner's cart behind her and I wonder how many jobs she does here.

Gripping the hot chocolate in my hands, I walk to the door, press the button and get in the elevator, heading for the floor marked 'T', for Training Room.

* * *

The lights are off when the elevator door opens and I step into the room cautiously, aware it's only 4.30am in the morning. _Maybe I shouldn't be here so early. _I catch myself thinking. I shake my head, if they wanted me to stay on my floor, they wouldn't have let me get off the elevator so easily. The lights flicker on when they sense me, either motion or heat detectors then. I make a mental note to see which at a later date. It could come in handy at some point. Like when I want to train in the middle of the night without being caught. Or something like that.

I make my way to the middle of the room, still slightly daunted by the enormity of the room. I see things glistening on the walls and my eyes immediately are drawn to them. Stepping closer, dragging my heels, I find myself standing in front of the 'sharp objects' station. Looking at some of the blades and, amongst other things, spiky maces, I can only hope I don't have the chance to see these again after training. Because that would mean my death for sure. Hesitatingly, I reach out to touch one. Resting my finger against the blade, I drag it across it, biting my lip as blood falls down my finger. Bringing it back to my chest, I at least know that death won't be too painful by these means. The blade cut so quickly, I didn't feel too much pain. But this was only a test on my finger. What would happen if it were to slice through my body. It wasn't worth thinking about.

My eyes rest on the lift by chance as I wonder if I should just give up and go back upstairs. Then my heart stops. The lift has been called up already. The illuminated number above the door freezes me in place. Floor 2. District 2. They're coming down.

I've already grabbed a throwing knife and am running as the elevator reaches the 1st floor, passing it after a pause. I am skidding into the small fake forest station when the elevator pings, announcing its arrival. I am flat against a tree when laughter fills the lack of sound. Voices make my breathing stop. Four different ones. _Fuck_, I think, _Did District 2 pick up their allies on the way? _They come closer, and I risk a glance in their general direction. And I immediately regret it. I hadn't paid much attention to the District 1 Tributes yesterday, a mistake I wouldn't repeat. They looked comfortable with the District 2's, meaning they were at least as lethal as them or more. For the millionth time in my life, I cursed my stupid body clock.

"Oh?" a boy pipes up, surprise and amusement laced in his voice. There's a second of pause as I hear feet shuffle.

The same boy speaks again, I can hear a smile in his voice. "Looks like someone's already got dibs on your sword, Noah."

I frown. Nobody had been here last night and I was pretty sure I was the only one who woke up this early. Or at least one of the five who did. A girl spoke, her voice sending shivers down my spine. I'm sure she's the District 2 Tribute who couldn't stop glaring at me despite the fact I can only hear her voice. Her voice sounds the way I expected it. Devoid of any emotion but misplaced happiness for the situation we're in.

"How nice. Blood. Looks like someone already wants to die."

My body grows cold. I look down at my finger. It's bleeding more than I expected.

_Shit_.

"The light was already on when we came down, right...?" It's the boy again. I want to slap him.

"Well, no shit, Baron." The District 2 girl isn't as bright as this so-called 'Baron'.

"Well, wouldn't you expect them to be off if we're the first ones down?"

"Your point?"

"We were beaten down here."

There is a silence before a growl.

"Jesus, Terra, don't you ever lose or something?"

"Someone's got one of my knives! And unlike you, I don't make a habit of it!"

"SHUT UP!" Someone else butts in. "CAN'T YOU JUST FUCKING SHUT UP?!"

I feel my breath catch in my throat. _The District 2 boy?_ I have no clue. I want to see their faces. Associate a name with a face. But I don't exactly have that luxury right now.

"Noah..." someone whines uneasily.

"YOU TOO, THALIA!"

"I wonder if the person's still here..." Baron muses. I squeeze my eyes shut.

_Whose fucking idea was it to make the Careers strong _and _intelligent?! _

"I wonder..." breathes Thalia.

_NO YOU DON'T! _I scream inside. I suddenly don't feel as safe as I did. Looking up at the tree, I see foot-holes and hand-grips purposely placed in easy-to-grab spaces. This tree must be an easy one then, to get you ready for if there's a forest arena. Quickly, I decide to climb it; after seeing the Careers' dreadful attempt at tree-climbing in the 74th Hunger Games, I'm pretty confident that they don't teach them that at school. Even I was probably better than then at this, having at least climbed a few trees in my lifetime.

I ascend it faster than usual, spurred on by their voices which sound like they're getting closer. I can't afford to be anywhere but in the leaves right now, especially if their tempers are anything like their glares. Resting on a high branch, I risk a look down. I was right. The girl with the freakishly happy voice is District 2's female. The smart boy – Baron – is one I hadn't noticed, so he must be from 1. Blonde hair, unknown-colour eyes. From this height I can't really get a scope of their faces clearly. The whining one – Thalia – also, from 1, red hair brighter than Zaine's. I narrow my eyes, definitely foul play. And then finally, District 2's male; Noah. I blush as I realise I was too caught up on his body to actually look at his appearance before now.

_Stupid_, I reprimand myself. I squint down at him. Black hair. That's all I can make out from this height.

The elevator pings again and I resist the urge to slam my head back against the tree. I was supposed to be the only one up, for Christ's sake!

A pair step out of the elevator, followed by a worried-looking Zaine. But I'm more focused on the two in front of him; Zaine can take care of himself for a while. Involuntarily, when I see the undeniable '4' shining on their sleeves, I find myself shaking with rage.

And I probably do the most stupid thing of my life.

I hiss.

And heads turn in my direction.

As I press into the trunk harder, I think one word over and over again like a continuous stream.

_Fuck._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, only my characters such as Akia and Zaine.**

**A/N: Another chapter! ^^ We're on Chapter 7 already (well, maybe not already - I'm sorry I've been neglecting you~~~) and the story is beginning to take shape! Next chapter, training will begin - it's long overdue I know -_- but I felt as if we needed a little bit more interaction before the action comes! We met our lovely Careers last chapter - thought District 4 are not introduced. Sorry 'bout that but I imagine that Akia doesn't care too much about their names, only about killing them both. In this chapter, there's a little more hinted on her past - have you been catching the little bits and pieces I've thrown in here and there? Most will be revealed next chapter, so review, favourite and follow!**

**Thanks to LadyDunla for sticking with me all this time ^^ :D It's really awesome to have her review all my chapters!**

**Next chapter is pretty long, so look forward to it!**

**Read, favourite, follow, review and even PM me! :)**

**-R**

* * *

"What was that?" Thalia asks, her neck craning up to look up in my general direction. I freeze. District 4 can wait.

"Leaves." I hear Zaine say deadpan. He knows it was me, _he must. _For once I'm glad to have a fellow Tribute on my side. "You know, the green things attached to the branches?" he sneers.

_No need to push it, Zaine, _I think, worried for his sanity. No-one in his right mind would challenge a Career – nevermind the six of them that were present including District 4.

"What did you say, 3?" Noah demands, stepping closer. I gulp as Zaine also steps forward. _Boys! Why are they so proud?! _

_"_I said '_You know, the green things attached to the branches?_' Why? Got a problem with that?"

Noah grins and it nearly stops my heart. "Yeah, actually, I do. Now stop being so goddam proud and leave before I break you in half."

For once I agree with the Noah and hope in vain that Zaine'll just leave. But, of course, he doesn't and if anything, he's more pissed off that before.

"_Make. Me._" Even I can tell it's a challenge, and Noah doesn't seem to turn down any challenges. I look desperately for an escape and find it. The idea seems crazy, but it's one at least. I climb higher, scaling the more difficult branches that bend slightly with my weight. I think the idea is to show you that stupidity and bravery are two different things. Get too cocky and climb too high, the branch will break and you're dead. But I ignore that. Zaine's in trouble and he helped me. It's my time to repay the favour. I hear Zaine grunt when I reach the highest point I will go – any further would be suicide. Clutching the throwing knife, I look at my target, a light easily five metres away. I can see the District 3 symbol and am thankful I know the technology. This particular light, when in parallel with others of the same time, if broken or disturbed in a certain way, will trigger a blackout of potentially an entire apartment block. It's part of District 3's secret rebellion. So that if there's ever a time where dark would be better than light, we could easily submerge ourselves in it – the light umbrella stretching across District 3's sky also has the same technology, only sturdier because we can't have a blackout every time a bird flies into the net.. I haven't seen these lights outside this room, so I presume that only this room will be subject to the blackout. That's if I manage to hit it.

I think of it like a maths equation, just like the cupcake from before, because, to me, it's easier to understand. I don't know the exact forces that'll be acting upon the knife, but I know the air resistance will be relatively low, it being a very streamlined object. I position my arm and then the knife carefully; but then I hear Zaine choking and I can't stop myself. I throw.

I see it as it arcs, and I know that it's slightly too low. It hits the light, but not on target so I'm not sure if it will be affected. Gravity takes it and it plummets to the floor; the Careers will surely see the knife when it hits the floor and trace it back to me. So not only will Zaine be injured, I will be too.

But by some miracle, I suddenly can't see anything anymore. Our lights must have been more sensitive than I thought. I hear the knife's _thud_ when it hits the floor, but the Careers are too preoccupied to care.

"_What the hell?!_" Terra screeches. I resist the urge to snicker as I climb down. Missing a foot-hole, I tumble to the floor, luckily only a few metres down as I'd climbed most of the way down. But it still takes the breath out of me. I groan as I roll over, determined to get to the elevator before some technician reboots the system, minus one light. I push myself onto all-fours, then onto my knees and gradually to my feet. Wheezing, I run to the elevator, careful to dodge the Careers that run around like headless chickens. Only the biggest figure stays still - Noah – and I know he's used to the dark. After all, the Careers hunt on the first night. And I don't mean they hunt for food.

Pressing the elevator button, I pray that it comes quickly. The doors open with a _ping _and everyone's attention is on me. Pretending that I've just stepped out into the darkness, I make a show of stumbling.

"Zaine?" I shout into the pitch black. I get an answering grunt back. Walking slowly into the middle of the training room, I squint, muttering to myself loudly so the others hear, "Why is it so dark?"

I trip over a body, curled up on the floor and mutter a quick sorry before realising who it is.

"Zaine?!" My voice is hysterical and I'm not acting. I pull him up, only now realising the extent of what he went through to protect me.

"You idiot." I whisper in his ear before turning to the darkness, where I see six figures lurk.

"HEY!" I scream, seeing red. I pick up the throwing knife from the floor as I walk towards them. Grabbing the hair of the smallest Tribute there, I press the knife to her throat.

"What the fuck?!" she girl cries out and I press harder. It's not District 1 or 2. District 4.

_Kill her now, _my mind taunts me. _Kill her and you'll be halfway through your revenge._

The light flickers on before I have time to decide, and mouths drop open when they see the position I've put the District 4 female in.

"Put the knife down, little girl." It's the District 4 male. I move the knife sideways slightly and the girl cries out underneath me, feigning innocence. Maybe she thinks that it'll appeal to my human side. Too bad I don't have one at this moment. I see blood drip down her neck but don't move, wanting to see more.

"If you don't want this girl dead, then you'll get Zaine to someone who can help him." My voice is low, so unlike my own.

Noah smirks. "You couldn't hurt a fly."

I smile grimly back. "Don't tempt me. Or this girl's as good as dead."

She whimpers under my iron hold, impossible to break because of the adrenaline that's running through my veins. They consider my threat for a second before Noah nods at Baron and they both walk to Zaine, pick him up and wait for me to let go of the girl. I keep the knife in my hand when I push her away, ready for them to drop Zaine and come at me.

"Terra," Noah growls, and I see her in my peripheral vision. Instinctively, I grab the District 4 girl again, ripping out some of her hair as I do.

"She'll come with us." I decide, pressing the blade once again to her neck.

Noah nods once, his eyes filled with... curiosity? _Pride_?

Disgusting.

* * *

Zaine wakes up and I let the District 4 girl go. The Careers left a while ago, after I promised I would send her back in one piece... eventually. A Capitol doctor is muttering something under his breath about the fighting rules before the games, but I couldn't care less.

"Hey," I say softly. He fights back a groan as he sits up.

Rubbing his head, he asks, "What happened?"

"Your stupidity, that's what." I respond, glaring.

"What?!"

"But thanks anyway. You did it to help me, right?"

He's blushing when he mutters a quick 'No'. I grin widely.

"Yeah, right. You love me, right?" I tease, sticking my tongue out.

He ignores me. "How long have I been out? How'd you get me here?"

Shrugging, I say, "An hour tops. And I threatened a Career. Had a knife to a District 4's throat. Twice."

His eyes wide, he says something I'd never expect him to. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" I cry out. He must've been hit too hard in the head for him to think it was his fault.

"It must have been hard" - he chooses his words carefully - "to let the District 4 live when you had a knife to their throat. After all that's happened between our two Districts. Finnick... would be proud."

_After all that's happened._ Zaine skips around the issue like a pro.

_Finnick, would you be proud?_ I feel like crying.

"You... _remember_?" I manage to choke out. He looks at me seriously.

"_Of course. Everyone remembers. No-one will ever be able to forget."_


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, only my own characters.**

**A/N: So this is Chapter 8 ^^ I've been really motivated recently, and I don't know why! I have another two projects planned after this one is complete - I doubt I'll finish my other fanfic too soon - a Hunger Games fanfic and a Battle Royale fanfic, because I am just that cool. And a fangirl. And a Kiriyama-lover... ANYWAY. We (and I mean you when I say 'we') finally find out solid parts of Akia's past in this chapter! No more ****_he _****and ****_that person _****and no more random hints like what happened when she got her makeover! It's slightly vague still, but all will cleared up next chapter. And when I say 'all', I mean 'nearly all' XD **

**Thanks to LadyDunla who keeps spurring me on ^^ And yes, the Careers are mostly babies when threatened hahaha, until they get into the Arena, that is. Look forward to what I have planned :)**

**So I hope you enjoy this chapter and if you do, please feel free to review, PM me, favourite and follow this story! **

**I'll see you again soon - in this fanfic or my other one :)**

**-R**

* * *

Zaine leans on me heavily as we head back to the training room. We're late, but it doesn't bother me as much as it should. I keep on remembering his words, '_Everyone remembers._' Is that true? Does everyone really truly remember? The Capitol sure doesn't. But they will; I will make it so.

The elevator _pings_ again, and I want to groan – I'm beginning to get sick of it. Heads turn at our entrance and I spot a lady on a podium, rushing us forward with wild gestures. Her name is Atala, our Head Trainer, and she looks as bored as Hell; I wonder if she's been through this process before. How many times? How many years? I direct a look in her direction saying, _Did you train him then?_ _Did you train my precious person? _

Our eyes meet and they soften slightly. A faint flicker of recognition. So she did. Instantly, I want to rip those soft eyes out of her head; pity was the last thing I wanted. Especially from her.

"Nice of you to join us, District 3."

"Not really." It's out of my mouth before I can stop it and I resist the urge to slam a hand onto my mouth, but I do wish in my mind that I had thought before I had spoken. Luckily, she only looks mildly amused by my words, probably taking into consideration that my partner was beaten up this morning, 'without me knowing'. If she only knew that it was probably my fault that he was done to so badly. I squeeze Zaine's arm suddenly as some sort of reassurance, and he gives me a soft look, one of warmth and not pity.

One I _can_ take.

One I don't deserve.

* * *

Our mentor still hasn't showed up, so I do what I think is right, walking over to the woodland station again, hoisting myself up onto a different tree, seeing if I can spot the holes which I can use to scramble up it. Zaine is at the fire-craft station, and I make a mental note to tell him to also try this one out – if we're going to work together in the arena he needs to be able to climb trees as well as I can. My foot slips out of its hold suddenly, and I'm left hanging, a small scream dead in my mouth. I swallow another cry that threatens to break and cling on, not ready to let go and possibly bring an injury upon myself. I'd never forgive myself if it was my own fault I was handicapped. Grunting, I force my upper body strength to magically appear and pull, my stomach rubbing against the hard bark of the tree. Whimpering, my foot finds another foot-hole and I reach upwards again to straighten my body out, so that, if I do fall again, I won't jerk downwards and let go as a reflex. I'm panting as I rest on the nearest stable branch. Laughing, I count my lucky stars (which have dramatically decreased it seems from the Reaping) and am thankful that didn't happen in the Games. I get an image of a spear being thrown at my back as I struggle to hold on and shake it out, I don't need that kind of pessimism.

I stay up the tree for a while, resting and watching the other Tributes. The Careers are unusually deadly this year – must be pissed off that they've lost two Hunger Games in a row. District 5 isn't too great, smart as usual, but they nearly always die eventually. District 6 is bad as well, they'll die in the bloodbath, or before if they manage to anger any of the Tributes – everyone's riled up this year; it feels like a jack-in-a-box, the tension rising until one of us snaps. District 7 is scary this year, both Tributes showing quite a bit of potential. They're both currently hacking at the tree next to mine, using axes as per usual. Sometimes we're lucky with District 7, sometimes they're just from the sorting facilities, but no, this year they're both obviously from the woodlands and very much used to handling big heavy weapons. I shudder as I think of one particular Victor who came from this seemingly sleepy District – Johanna Mason. Dead now, but still as terrifying. One of District 8 – the male surprisingly – looks as if he couldn't hurt a fly; the other looks the complete opposite, skinning a dummy before sewing it back up again. She's humming as she sews, a cheerful tune to match her cheerful smile. I will avoid her in the Games, someone else can kill her for all I care – she's as psychopathic as the Careers. District 9 and 10 are as sorry as ever thankfully, but District 11, as usual, makes up for it. Reminiscent of Thresh and Rue, only this time around they've gender-swapped, I don't look forward to meeting the girl in the Games. I can only hope that all the brawn she's carrying has affected her brain somehow.

But, of course, I was more concerned about Districts 2 and 4. District 2 because of their sheer skill and psychotic minds; District 4 because I wasn't too sure whether I could survive training without at least trying to hurt them in some way.

I sigh and slump into the bark, not caring if it isn't as fluffy as my bed up on Floor 3. Grabbing my shirt, I pull it up and pull my arms back through my sleeves, creating some sort of make-shift poncho. Bringing my knees to my chest, I bury my face in the material, blocking out the light; it works pretty well and for a moment, I kid myself into thinking I'm back in my apartment, in my cupboard, in the dark, _safe_. Then a knife sticks in the branch, right below my feet and I'm reminded of the danger I'm currently. Groaning and glaring, I take one guess who threw it.

Pocketing it, I smile sweetly down at the girl, and clamber down, jumping the last two metres to the ground. I raise out of my crouch and walk straight towards her, and even though Zaine sees me, he doesn't try to stop me. He knows I'm in a dangerous mood.

I push my arms through my sleeves again as I walk, letting Noah see a flash of my less-emaciated-than-usual stomach as I walk by, my hands becoming claws as I stop a metre away. I haven't watched the Reapings yet so I don't know her name, but she certainly knows mine. A bandage covers the thin cut I gave her this morning, and reaching out, I grab it, tearing it off. I want the world to see what I've done to her, I want the world to see my mark. In an instant, I'm straddling her waist and holding her wrists above her head. The knife she threw earlier is in my left hand – I'm ambidextrous, a talent drilled into most kids in District 3 so they can work with the wires in either hand – and I bring it down on her throat, reopening the old wound.

"Thank you for the present," My voice is sickly sweet, matching the District 8 female's. Somewhere in my mind, I wonder if I'll become known for knives.

_Since when did I get so violent? _

_Ah, that's right, six years ago._

_When he didn't come back home._

_When he was _betrayed _by District 4._

_When I began dreaming of torturing them to her death._

_When I began smiling when I thought of her screams._

Zaine's at my right shoulder, Noah at the other. Noah's presence will surely register later on, but I don't particularly notice the peculiarity of it.

I'm fine now. I've remembered something very important I had almost forgotten. I pocket the knife again and reach for Zaine's hand which helps me up on contact.

"Hey, when do you think well get to meet the past Victors?" I ask, cocking my head to the side as I look at him, my boot still planted firmly on 4's stomach.

Zaine raises an eyebrow and I know why. I can see myself in his eyes; unstable, violent, wanting revenge, but most of all I see a girl who threatens to break away at the seams if she doesn't get a hold on herself. I see a girl threatening to become something else, threatening to change because of the Games, something I had promised would never happen. Noah's watching me with a strange look I can't place on his face. I imagine what it would look like on Zaine's and I realise what it is. _Worry_. _How strange_. Zaine doesn't give me an answer, so I direct my question to Noah, who seems taken aback I would even talk to him.

"I imagine never. Unless you win." His sentences are short and clipped. He's holding something back, probably an insult, and I give him a grateful smile for doing so.

_So I have to win in order to take my revenge. I'll have to be the last one alive. I'll have to make sure that both District 4 Tributes are dead._

The voice is back, as wild as the last time. _Kill two birds with one stone. KILL._

It doesn't seem like a half-bad idea.

* * *

"Akia?" The voice rings through the training room and I freeze, turning my back slowly on the edible plants station. The voice is scared and high-pitched, shrill even to my ears that are used to it. As soon as I see her, I'm sprinting towards the woman who called my name, a woman as pale as me. Her dark hair is tied up in a high ponytail, her green eyes flashing with fear as she regards the room she hasn't stepped in for five years. I'm in her arms before she can register my presence and she's clawing at the air as we fall down, myself on top of her. I'm worried I've hurt her, but my fear and irrational urge to hug her until everything bad goes away wins over, so I stay as I am, my arms wrapped around this crazy woman; Annie Cresta.

She's more stable than she was after Finnick died in the last Games. She visited me several times before she gave birth to their son, but I haven't seen her since. The Capitol must have forced her here – she would never leave her son without a good reason to.

Her hands are in my hair as she soothes me, just like old times. But unlike old times, we're not in her cottage or my apartment, and Finnick isn't here to make jokes and envelop us in his arms. If I cried buckets when I watched Finnick's death, I can't even begin to imagine her pain.

_Annie Cresta. The name of the strongest woman I know. _

_ Annie Cresta. The name of the woman who saved me from my despair._

_ Annie Cresta. The name of the woman who loved Finnick Odair in ways no other woman could._

_ Annie Cresta. The name of the woman who I can never repay for all her kindness. _

"Now, now," Her voice is as soft as the fluffy clouds that float in the sky in my dreams. "Allen wouldn't want to see you like this, would he?"

_Annie Cresta. The name of the woman who dispels the darkness in my heart. _

And at her words, I nod and roll off of her, sitting then standing up. I pull her with me and I can tell she's happy at my reaction.

"There, there," It feels strange to be comforted like I comforted her. "'S'okay. You'll get out of this alive. Finnick and Allen will make sure of it. And so will I. I volunteered to be your mentor."

I can't help but gape at this revelation.

"I'm not _that _important for you to leave your son behind." I whisper. "I'm not that strong, either."

She chuckles and brushed my hair from my face. "Neither was I, but Finnick helped me survive and I'll help you."

Her fingertips tremble as they brush my cheek, and I know this room is taking a toll on her. People are looking at our exchange, and I can feel glares boring into my back. Annie gazes behind me, seeing the pool. Her eyes are glassy as she reminisces.

"Finnick and I practised in that pool, five years ago."

I take her hand and lead her back to the elevator.

She's whispering again, and I can't stop it. Only Finnick can. _Could._ "You've got to swim. Swim, swim, swim. Swim for your life."

_Annie Cresta. The name of the strongest woman I know. _

I grip her hand tighter.

* * *

**Remember to review - any thoughts on what the future holds?**

**-R**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, only my characters like Akia and Zaine. **

**A/N: Another update, and I think I'm updating rather quickly! ^^ So most of Akia's past is revealed and we learn a Career has a temper problem. Fun times :P**

**Thanks to LadyDunla, as per usual, and Guest! It really motivates me reading your reviews!**

**To all my other readers, thank you, and if you enjoy the chapter, feel free to leave a review, PM me, follow and favourite!**

**-R**

* * *

I'm sat cross-legged on the sofa, taking a bite out of a piece of pizza, tomato sauce smudging on one side of my lips. Annie is lying on the floor, her limbs splayed out as she sinks into the soft fluffy rug covering the hard marble floor.

"I'd never been here before." she says, her voice a million miles away. I'm not surprised, Tributes and their mentors don't make it a habit, visiting other floors.

"It's nice," she comments.

"Mmhm," I manage with a mouthful of pizza. God, this Capitol food is sometimes to die for... _Haha, punny. _I mentally give myself props for that terrible pun.

Minutes later, Zaine enters the silence-filled room, flicking his red hair out of his eyes. I wonder if fringes get annoying during the Games. _But, God are they cute! _I wonder if my stylist would let me have one... I'm still pondering over my appearance when Annie clears her throat, clearly feeling awkward. My eyes widen and I realise they haven't been introduced yet.

"Err, Annie, this is Zaine. Zaine, this is Annie," I use my arms to gesticulate violently from one to the other, "She's going to be our mentor."

Zaine gives me a look that says '_Are you stupid or what? Of course I know this woman_.' I glare at him back. Annie doesn't waste any time.

"Any skills?" The question isn't directed at me – she already knows me enough.

Zaine becomes uncomfortable under her gaze, fidgeting slightly. "I'm quite strong but no where near the level of Noah – ah, the District 2 Tribute." He wrinkles his nose. "I found that out the hard way.

"As for weapons, I want to try practising with the sword. Knives are quite small and I'm not the most dexterous person on the planet... And I'll try spears, but my hand-eye coordination is lacking, as I mentioned with the knives situation."

Annie nods. "You should also try with body combat and blunt weapons. Blunt force trauma can kill as easily as a knife can. And if you aren't strong enough, it should at least give them a nasty headache which give you valuable seconds to get away."

I stare at the woman standing in front of us, wondering where my Annie went. At my surprised expression she quickly mutters something only I'm supposed to hear.

"Finnick wasn't expecting to get out. He knew I'd be mentoring after he died so he began teaching me how to. I was pretty unstable at first, but I've learnt to hold it in." She makes a face. "Of course, at the time, I didn't know his intention."

Zaine is too busy pondering Annie's word to listen, so I smile and say, "You've done well."

* * *

My fingers find the elevator button and I press it, hoping it isn't too loud – it's late and I don't want to wake anyone up. I missed quite a bit of training today, and I want to make up for it. Without everyone watching me; _judging me_.

The lights are dimmer in the elevator than in the morning and it feels like a sign. I clamber aboard and ride the elevator down, contemplating whether to go to the Ground Floor instead and see if I have any fans. I can do that tomorrow if I so wish, so I head straight down to the Training Room. The lights are off again but when I walk inside they turn on. Definitely either heat or motion sensor then. I don't know if I'm allowed to be down here for extra Training, but I do have an excuse if anyone asks. Not that I care if anyone tries to give me punishment; isn't it punishment enough being in the Games?

A sound startles me, and I yelp, jumping up on the spot. I've never been a particularly good person with being scared. Too many years of being sneaked up upon made me extra jumpy. There is a sudden deep laughter, loud, but soothing and not booming. I frown into the empty Training room. Was someone playing a prank on me? I catch sight of a bright blue in the trees and my eyes narrow.

_What is it with that tree?_

"I can see you, y'know?" There's an embarrassed cough and the figure pokes his head out. Noah. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was a stalker.

_So much for peaceful training, _I think dryly. He must see the distaste in my expression because his immediately hardens.

"I don't want you here, either, just so you know."

I roll my eyes. "I'd be worried if you did. What are you even doing up there?"

"Cato... I mean the 74th Hunger Games District 2-"

I cut him off, snapping, "I know who he is. The brutal murderer from 2. The one who almost won." My tone of voice darkens and I smile, "I was so happy when he died, screaming in pain."

He starts to climb back down then, livid. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he's charging at me. Why is it that Careers always have such a temper? Or is it something else, maybe they were related...?

I'm thrown against the wall so hard I get dizzy. I remember what Annie said earlier.

_"__Blunt force trauma can kill as easily as a knife can. And if you aren't strong enough, it should at least give them a nasty headache which give you valuable seconds to get away."_

Is this what she meant? Only I knew Noah would not be running away now. His hands are around my throat, pushing me up and lifting me inches off of the ground.

I can't breathe.

I. Can't. Breathe.

Flashes of memories I'd previously kept under wraps come back and I scream, using the rest of the oxygen in my lungs. Now there's nothing. And there's no-one to save me. I wonder if Zaine's sleeping cosily now, under the warm covers of his bed. _Zaine. How will he cope without me? Probably fine. One less person to kill._ I let my eyes shut slowly, a wave of calm drowning my mind's erratic thoughts. I'm still floating, held up by this strange and psychotic boy, but it no longer feels painful.

_Allen_.

I want to say his name one last time.

My lips won't open so I can't.

Is this how he died as well? Filled with regent?

_Allen._

* * *

_"Akia!" Allen scolds me. I giggle as I reach for another biscuit on the tray. _

_ "Akia!" he says again, struggling to keep his face angry. He can't stay angry at me for long – I learnt that a while back and, boy, do I use it to my advantage._

_"Yes, dear brother?" I bat my eyelashes at him as I pop the second biscuit in my mouth. I groan at the taste. Heavenly._

_"They're for Kara!"_

_I snort, "She isn't right for you."_

_He rolls his eyes again, probably thinking, _Not this again.

_"__But it's true!" I'm his annoying 10 year-old sister. How can I think his girlfriend's any good? And he's only seventeen, not like they'll be together forever like he claims. "I'm perfect for you!" _

_It's his turn to snort, "Just like you thought Cousin Firr and Cousin Vix were just _perfect _for each other?" _

_ I blush deep red. They were brother and sister, but when I was younger I had been convinced that they should get married – they were both pretty, I just couldn't understand why them being siblings made it not possible._

_"NOT IN THAT WAY! You're horrible, Allen!" I cry out, smacking his arm. _

_"Not as horrible as you!" he counters, putting the cookies in some sort of bag, "When you get a boyfriend, I am going to drive him away with a crowbar!"_

_I pale at that threat. "Fine, go see Kara or whatever, but just remember that you're making dinner tonight!"_

_ "It's the Reapings today, Akia, did you forget? That's why I'm making these cookies – to cheer Kara up."_

_"I didn't forget!" I huff, "But I'm not even entered so why should I care? Come back soon afterwards to make dinner! I want a feast tonight!" _

_He chuckles and ruffles my hair._

_"Promise?" I say, holding my pinkie finger out. He takes it with his own._

_"Fine, I promise. I'll buy a chicken or something on my way back. I'll get it for cheaper because of the Reaping anyway."_

_He gives me a quick kiss and slips through the door, cookies in hand. _

That girl Kara better appreciate them. _I grumble internally._

* * *

_I wait for Allen to return._

* * *

_But he doesn't that night. _

At Kara's_, I think sourly._

* * *

_The girl I hate shows up on my doorstep the next day, her eyes red and puffy._

* * *

_I ask her when Allen's going to come home, presuming he stayed the night at hers._

* * *

_She hands me the bag of cookies he made when she says what I wanted to hear the least. _

* * *

_"Allen was Reaped."_

* * *

_I lean over the toilet, my body wanting to throw up, but it can't. I haven't eaten anything since Allen promised me a feast. _

* * *

_I watch him on his chariot, brimming with pride and fear._

* * *

_I watch his training score flash on the screen. 9. Didn't know he had it in him. _

* * *

_I watch him in his interviews and he talks about me. I start crying._

* * *

_I watch him enter the Arena, watch the countdown fall to zero and then join the Careers._

* * *

_I watch him take his first kill but I can't hate him. No matter what happens, I could never hate him._

* * *

_I watch him reach the top five, then top two._

* * *

_I watch him fight against the District 4 female who starts to cry._

* * *

_I watch him pause for a second at her tears._

* * *

_I watch a dark smile spread on her face when she sees him pause, too. _

* * *

_I watch a spear pierce his chest._

* * *

_I scream so loudly that I can't hear the cannon. _

* * *

_Then they come for me._

* * *

_They come for me and I'm still screaming, my voice hoarse and used._

* * *

**A/N: Well... That was an emotional ending... So yeah, that is most of Akia's past and why she has evil voices in her head telling her to kill the District 4 Tributes. And the District 4 Victor. Next chapter, a whole lot more is revealed about what happened to her after she was taken by 'they' and God, is the next chapter long for me. **

**So, review if you want it up extra early (like tomorrow! Or tonight if you review really quickly!)**

**Two quick questions:**

**What do you think of Noah after this incident? I can't really answer this question because I'm incredibly biased, but which couple do you like the most Akia x Zaine, Akia x Noah or Akia x another Tribute? Leave your answers in the awesome reviews, my awesome readers! ^^**

**-R**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I only own my characters such as Akia and Zaine, the Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

**A/N: It's been a while *waves madly at the screen* I thought I'd go stir crazy before posting another chapter! But I haven't (yet)! Sorry for he HUUUUGE delay, I kept meaning to update but then something happened and I was just like 'Meh'. **

**I really suck at excuses don't I? OH WELL, I'M SEEING THIS BABY THROUGH TO THE VERY END.**

**On a side note, IT FINALLY SNOWED. HALLELUJAH (or however you spell it) I mean, I live in England, so it's bound to snow sometime, but the snow literally skirted around where I lived every single time the forecast said it would snow. Like, I have friends just outside where I live and it snowed over their houses, but not mine -_- *not impressed* But, alas, school was not closed. My school wouldn't shut for total world destruction, I swear - and for all of you who think 'Ah, she's overreacting', I'm not. I'm dead serious. Our headmistress was really ill but STILL came in half-dead so as to make sure we wouldn't call our parents and get them to take us home early. I'm pretty sure she slept over in school to open it the next day...**

**So yeah... /rant over/**

**I hope you enjoy this belated chapter, and if you do, please favourite, follow and REVIEW. **

**To all my followers and favouriters, thanks! And to LadyDunla, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR AWESOME REVIEWS. I 3 long reviews, and I was very happy to hear your opinion :) Personally, I love Zaine (I wasn't meant to, I mean, in a story I'm writing - not fanfic - I hate the guy I based Zaine off of like SO MUCH) and I adore Noah, despite his violent manner. But they're my characters. Only I usually end up hating my protagonists...? (What, you crazy person?!) **

**ANYWAY, ON WITH THE STORY! CHAPTER 10 OMG :D**

**-R**

* * *

I open my eyes and find myself in a familiar room, but the last time I was here it wasn't me who was staring at the ceiling. The same Capitol doctor stares down at me, making a point of rolling his eyes when I see him.

_I'm in this place far too much for my liking. _I think.

The doctor snorts. "You're in this place far too much for everyone's liking."

I try to pretend I wanted to say it out loud. "Who brought me here?"

"Noah Seryth."

"Would'e been better to kill me there."

"Yup," He pops the 'p' at the end. "But he was pretty shaken up about it. I, speaking with years of medical experience, personally think he's mentally unstable."

"They all are. Every single year."

"Wonder why..." he muses, before remembering he hates my guts. He clears his throat and busies himself with his clipboard, his pen moving up and down as he writes. I sit up, groaning. My neck hurts – but that's to be expected – and so does my head; why is that? I rub the sensitive spot on my head, wincing.

"You were nearly strangled to death. Luckily, Noah stopped just before you died. You fell to the floor and bashed your head. I have a feeling you did die for a second but that was a small blip. Anyway, we got you stable and now you're awake. End of story."

"..." I can't find anything to say to that.

"Just so you know, going into shock can kill you, so I'd avoid that if I were you."

"How long have I been here?"

"A few hours. You've probably missed more training that any other Tribute I've seen."

"... That doesn't concern me too much." I shrug, wincing at the movement afterwards.

"Oh, why is that? Since when are District 3 Tributes so cocky?"

"I'll tell you," I waggle my finger from side to side, bartering. "But I have a condition."

"And it is...?"

"You teach me healing stuff whilst I'm holed up here." I've been thinking about this course of action for a while, and this doctor seems unbiased enough.

"And you'll tell me your story? For curiosity's sake?"

"Curiosity killed the cat." I warn him.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm a doctor, I'm practically _paid _to be curious."

"We have a deal then." I stick out my hand and he shakes it.

"It should be fun working with you."

* * *

"Could you pass me that?" I ask the doctor I now know as Mikail, who has currently been shouting at me for the past three hours. _"HE'D BE DEAD BY NOW!" "YOU DID IT WRONG!"_ being his favourite phrases to yell at me. I told him my story too, all about Allen, about how I was picked up by District 3 officials afterwards, about how I wasn't taken to an orphanage like I had expected, about how I was taken to be trained in secret. I doubt my training was as glamorous as the Careers', it was more like torture-them-until-they-can't-take-it-any-more training, and push-them-until-they-collapse training, but it did the job. I got the scars from my training, the scars that litter my body in such a gruesome manner. I pick them out as I talk, casually pointing at them and saying,

"_This one was from when I threw a knife wrongly. I was tired and it didn't hit the traget so I was made to stand in front of it whilst other kids thrw knives at me. Their aims weren't as good as mine, they tried to miss on purpose but some failed."_

And, "_From the electric shock treatment. Burned the skin around my wrists and ankles from where they cuffed us."_

Four years later I was put back in District 3 but it wasn't the reception I had been expecting; my friends and enemies had forgotten me, moved on, and no-one seemed to remember Allen or speak of him. With no family I didn't have anyone to fill me in on what I had missed – I had kept up with the Hunger Games, the training programme made us watch at least five Hunger Games a week, so we'd watched them all at least five times – I didn't have a clue how to interact with people, which is why no-one visited me when I was Reaped. I wasn't up for the Reapings either when I was in the orphanage and I remember being so scared when I went to my first one, the 74th Hunger Games Reaping. I wasn't Reaped, obviously, but after I had heard of Primrose Everdeen's Reaping, I just settled back into training and watching the Hunger Games on a regular basis. But I avoided the 69th Hunger Games at all costs.

I would never watch it again.

"I think they rigged my Reapiung." I whisper quietly, my eyes flicking up to meet Mikail's. "They'd probably been watching me for a while and thought I was ready. I'd never Volunteer so they forced me to be Reaped."

Mikail is silent for a while, probably wondering if he can trust what I have just said. Eventually, his voice breaks the silence. "You better get back to training, then."

I move from my sitting position on the bed, the position I adopted when I mentioned Allen's death. I didn't think I could stand much longer. Just before I leave, I spot a scalpel on his desk and I pick it up. I cut away my sleeves and make the tight trousers into shorts that ride up my thighs. I cut away the turtle neck too, letting the hands imprints show.

I'll do this to all my outfits tonight, I vow.

Placing the scalpel back on the table, I catch a glimpse of Mikail's expression. He looks mildly amused and a rush of pride fills me.

All my scars are on show now.

All my sacrifices.

_All my demons_.

* * *

I'm bouncing up and down on m feet when I see the 'G' button for Ground floor. I said I'd visit my fans today. I take a look of myself in one of the elevator's mirrors and tie my hair up messily. My face is unharmed and that's what they care most about, so I decide I might as well. At first, the elevator refuses to budge when I press the G button. But after some quick re-wirings, it shudders into motion.

I step out into the marble lobby, as grand as I remember it, and instantly everyone's attention is on me. People rush to me, surrounding me, pushing and pulling me this and that way. I'm smiling and shaking people's hands, kissing other's cheeks, and winking at the small children. Soon, a guard approaches me and I have to shout over the mass of people that I'm just greeting my fans. Word spreads quickly, apparently, because soon the whole lobby is filled with the buzz of people, some wearing big 3s on their shirts. I jump onto a sofa so I'm on a higher level than everyone else, before addressing them all.

"Hello," I figure that's a good way to start, "My name is Akia Kaine and it's _very _nice to meet all of you."

"I'm breaking some rules to come down and meet you," I wink at the crowd and some people shout with glee, "So please, if you're going to tell anybody, tell them _secretly_. It'll be our little secret, okay?"

It's the 'our little secret' that does it (I seriously doubt that this hasn't spread across all of the Capitol by now but I think they like sharing something with me, in this case, a secret.)

A girl tugs on the button of my ripped shorts, looking up at me innocently. A boy is next to her, tugging on her dress, willing her to move away from me. I see fear in his eyes. I step off of the sofa and crouch so I'm at their eye-level, giving them the respect that I was never given.

"What's your name?" I'm using the tone of voice I always do when talking to children – I have a soft spot for them.

"Azalea," the girl whispers and I barely hear it. She's likes a precious little doll and I hug her, squealing at her cuteness.

"You. Are. So. Precious." I say fiercely, pausing between each word. She blushes crimson and the boy besides her clears his throat.

"I'm Zeus." he sticks his hand out and I get the feeling he's much more formal than his, I presume, sister.

"It's very nice to meet you," I respond, shaking his hand with my own. The fear has left his expression, replaced with something else: pride. "Where are your parents?"

Zeus is also the more talkative of the two. "At work."

"So you're here all alone. How brave of you to come visit the building where all the deadly Tributes stay." I nod at Azalea, "You're taking care of her, right?"

I get a fast, jerky nod from them both.

Then an idea hits me like lightning.

"Want to see something _really cool_?" I ask, beaming widely. They don't hesitate.

"Yes!"

I tell them to wait a moment and announce my leave from the crowd with a few parting words.

"Can I ask you all for a favour?" There's an instantaneous reaction of 'YES'. "Could you all spread the word that in the Interview audience and in the streets, I want everyone wearing a light electric blue colour. For District 3. I want to show the other Tributes we are not people to be overlooked."

There's a lot of murmurs before someone is brave enough to shout, "Electric blue is in this season!"

I step back into the elevator, grabbing the children's hands, grinning. If the sea of electric blue, a clear show that the Capitol is allied with Zaine and I, doesn't distract the Tributes during their interviews, I don't know what will.

"Let's go to the Training Room!" I say in a sing-song voice, raising an eyebrow conspicuously. They giggle at my obvious attempt to be villainous, obviously pleased with my 'something really cool'. As we go up, Zeus keeps on staring at my arms and legs, then at my neck; if he notices my scars he doesn't say anything. And if he doesn't notice the great big hand-prints on my neck, I'd be worried.

"How'd you get it?" he mumbles.

"Noah Seryth. District 2. I'm too talkative for my own good." He gives me a smile at that.

The elevator _pings _and I drag them into the room, noticing that the training session probably started hours ago. Zaine is at my side in a second, staring quizzically at the children who squeeze my hands tighter.

"This is Zaine, my district partner. Zaine, this is Azalea and Zeus. They probably have the same mental age as you." I finish my introductions and Zeus laughs loudly. Heads turn and they spot the four of us next to the elevator. I wonder if we look like a family.

Azalea ignores the other Tributes as they stare at her and Zeus, her attention firmly on Zaine.

"Is your hair dyed?"

Zaine groans and hits his head against the wall, shouting, "No!"

Then he smirks. "But the girl from Distinct 1's hair is."

* * *

I show the children around the Training room, letting them touch a few things in each of the sections. Well, letting them touch things that aren't potentially life-threatening. In the edible plants section, I give them each a mint leaf to smell and some tasty berries to eat. They wolf them down quickly and it occurs to me they could be hungry, so I speed up the tour. I tell them a few stories of events that have happened whilst we were training, pointing to stations and saying, 'This is where so-and-so blew up their trainer,' and 'This is where so-and-so tripped over the floor.' At some point, I point up to the lights on the ceiling and find the one without a light-bulb. Grinning, I tell them of my antics.

Their eyes grow wide when they hear what I did, but it only increases my status in their eyes. When we head over the collection of weapon's stations, I make a point to wave at Noah and the rest of the Careers, making a V peace and victory sign at Terra, who growls.

The children, God bless them, are amazing. "They're scary. But they look dumb." Zeus says, loud enough for the Careers to hear. I can't help but clutch my stomach as I laugh, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I regret not having a camera or something to take a picture of their expressions.

Soon, their curiosity gets the better of them. "Can you do anything?"

"That's a secret," I respond at the same time as Zaine says, "Yes, I work with swords."

I roll my eyes. Trust him to say the opposite as me.

"REALY?!" Zeus is excited, bouncing up and down like he's just consumed a billion sweets

"Mmhmm." Zaine looks proud of himself and is quickly pushed towards the sword station by Zeus. Azalea and I follow half-heartedly, with the same general attitude of _'Boys... What to do with them...'_

Noah also happens to be at that particular station and he looks over at us as we approach. He takes in my appearance with a shocked expression, seeing all my scars for the first time. I raise an eyebrow as if to say '_You should see the rest_'. Zaine greets Noah with a slight bow of his head and I frown, fraternising with the enemy, especially one that nearly _killed me_? Zaine sees my expression and shrugs,

"He helped me with my sword skills."

"So Careers feel guilt?" I say, sounding surprised. Noah glares at me, turning back his dummy, slicing off each of its limbs with a few precise strokes.

"You're the one who hurt big sister." It takes me a second to realise 1. it's Zeus talking and 2. by 'big sister', he means me. Noah looks down at the child who approaches him.

"Yeah," Noah's voice is gruff.

And Zeus is obviously a whole lot more dauntless than I gave him credit for, because he lifts his leg and kicks Noah in the shin,_ very hard_. But then he retreats rather quickly, hiding behind Zaine's legs before Noah does something very violent. Instead, he laughs, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he says his next words.

"I guess I deserved that."

"You did," I reassure him, biting my lip to suppress a grin.

"Hey! There's no need to agree with me!"

Zaine steps forward and tries to hit Noah playfully on the shoulder, but Noah catches his fist.

"Hey! You beat me up too!" Zaine reminds him, scowling like a little child who didn't get his way.

Azalea, when she hears that, walks up to Noah's other leg and kicks him in his other shin. As soon as she has done it, she pales, realising what she actually just did, squeaks and runs behind me.

"What are they?!" Noah complains, hopping on his other leg, "Your attack dogs?!"

"Yeah!" I laugh.

* * *

**Soooo what do you think of Azalea and Zeus? This scene may seem really random to you, but I've had it in my head for a while so I had to include it. They're absolutely ADORABLE. I just want to take them home! ^^ **

**This time in your reviews, what do you think to all of Akia's past? I feel kinda sorry for her... And Noah? Is there a light at the end of the tunnel? I can't really ask much about Zaine because he was being his normal gentleman-ly self this chapter and so I can't really ask anything out of the ordinary on him... What do you think to Mikail? Personally, when I thought him up, I was just like... I'd date him XDDDD I imagine him to be quite normal looking and HOT. I really like his snarky personality, it's similar to mine :P I think his character is the annoying elder brother role XP **

**Until next time! REVIEW!**

**-R**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does.**

**A/N: Hi guys, it's been a while ^^" My fault - I wrote myself into writer's block which I am currently trying to recover from. I got a burst of inspiration after going to see Les Miserables today (long overdue, I know) and it was amazing :D For those of you who haven't seen it yet - SHAME ON YOU. *cough* I didn't mean to write that. More like: You should go see it! Yeah, that's better. Anyway, on with the show! Oh, and thanks to LadyDunla - sorry it took me so long to post this ^^**

**Please read, review, favourite and follow for more chapters!**

**-R**

* * *

We were all kicked out from District 3's floor by the time dinner came, so here we are, camping out and having a picnic on the roof. Zaine sits across from me, Zeus to his left and Noah to his right. It's strange, I think, having Noah with us when he was out-rightly pissed off at me before. He's smiling and leaning across, feeding Azalea some of his so-called favourites. I sit across from him, Azalea in between myself and Annie. She was beyond surprised when she found us all, lounging around, just before Laurel screeched at us for breaking every possible rule we could.

Tomorrow we are to play an elaborate pantomime for the Gamemakers, to try and get them to believe that we would kill and survive through the Games. I still hadn't figured out what to do, which worries me slightly, but not too much.

I look up and catch Noah's eyes, still guarded and suspicious even as he smiles. Does he expect me to try and kill him even now? Is that why he always looks like he is on defence, poised for blocking then attacking back? Or has this irrational fear been plugged into his system, similar to a virus in a computer, gripping his mind with such a force that he can't shake it? We'd both received Training, though he knew nothing of mine, but we were still worlds apart, still mindsets apart. In only a few mere days, he'd be killing children, and possibly _me_, with a smile lighting up his face. There was a part of me that wanted to watch him kill, wanted to see just how real the smile he'd give afterwards was, but there was also a part of me that knew that the moment he killed, or anyone for that matter, in front of my eyes, they'd immediately become dead to me.

I sigh, _I'm such a hypocrite_.

"Don't you like it?" Azalea asks, pointing to my chocolate covered strawberry.

I shake my head and pop it in my mouth, "Very much so, don't worry!"

I ruffle her hair, remembering something Finnick once told me. He wasn't facing me as he said it, his shoulders were hunched and he sounded broken. It was probably after his Tributes both died in one of the Hunger Games; I think the 73rd.

"_They should pay for this, Akia._" He was impossible to console and was silent for a few days, angry and holding it in for Annie's sake.

"_Who, Finnick?!_" I had shouted, annoyed that he, for once in his life, couldn't see what this was doing to Annie. I stepped back when he turned around, pressing my back into a wall. This had been the first time he had looked like Finnick the Victor to me; and it scared me so much. He stalked up to me, eyes blazing in wrath, knuckles whitening, when he whispered his next words.

"_The Capitol. They should pay. When we win this rebellion, we will hold a Games just for their children. Now wouldn't _that_ be entertainment?_"

I had wished that he'd shouted it out loud, screamed it if he had to, because his quiet, calm voice scared me much more than him shouting ever could. It meant that he was holding it, holding his anger whilst waiting for revenge.

The next day he came back to his usual self and apologised, laughing it off and telling me he was out of his mind. But there was still that anger and hurt behind his eyes, though I never dared to tell him I knew.

I'm absently tugging my finger's through her blonde corkscrew curls, reliving Finnick's anger; but at the same time I'm questioning it.

_How could someone want this for anyone? _

If anyone, the Gamemakers and the President should play this little game they've created. But even they have families. Families that depend on them. And if we took them away from that, would we be any better than them?

I shift my gaze and catch Annie's, giving her a small smile. I want Finnick to see how strong she is now, how selfless. I want him to see me too, I want him to be here, patting me on the back, laughing.

"_Hey kid, just remember that I'm the Trident King, okay?_"

I still believe that Finnick was just angry when he had said that. Angry at the world. Angry with everyone but Annie. He would never want another Hunger Games; even if it meant the Capitol children playing; _he would never_.

* * *

Azalea and Zeus leave protesting as their mother drags them away, shooting nervous looks in our direction. I'm smiling and waving, slightly sad to see them go and I can only hope they don't watch the Games. There can only be one Victor after all.

Noah left a while back, mumbling something about strategy and Terra, but not before he got a hug off of the children. His expression was priceless and it was another moment I tried to capture in my mind's eye. I'd save all the moments for the end, for when I gave up, for when I let go of revenge. Then I'd see how hopelessly human we all were. How hopelessly monstrous we'd become in winning.

But I can't see it yet.

Zaine was silent for once, contemplating something that I imagined was important, but when I asked he replied in his usual manner,

"I was wondering if we could have supper."

I slapped him on the arm for that, chuckling at his idiocy and ignorance of his impending doom. But that action was only for show. He thinks he fooled me with that stupid answer which he thinks threw me off of my game. But it didn't.

I noticed it.

The look in his eyes.

The same one the District 4 girl wore right before she killed Allen.

_Zaine, you sly idiot. _

_Why would you try and deceive me like this?_

_Surely you know I'm not fooled that easily?_

* * *

_I trusted you_.

* * *

I wake up, panting and clutching at the covers, the back of my neck damp from perspiration. I roll over, taking the covers with me, burying myself in them.

_I wonder if I could smother myself to death. Or strangle myself. That would always work_. Suicide seems a logical option, but unfortunately not for me. I was raised to live on no matter what. Not like I had a say in the matter now.

It's 4am, I know that without even looking at the alarm clock-

I freeze. Must be some kind of mistake. I rub my eyes.

_6am_. I try not to let it get me. The first time I have a lazy lie-in is three days before my death. And I haven't even gotten my revenge yet.

I sit up in bed and hear the rattling of pots. That meant at least some other person would be able to keep me company, though I wasn't sure if I wanted Laurel's. Or Zaine's.

Slipping out of bed, I reached into my drawers and pulled out my newly-slashed training uniform. I pull it on and tie my hair back once more, applying a bit of black eyeliner to the underneath of my waterline just like Venonia taught me. Usually, I wouldn't go to so much effort, but today is a very large deciding factor in whether you live or you die. Even more so than the interviews.

I push open my door and walk out, head held high, glancing at Zaine's shut door. I want to take it as a sign he's not up yet, but somehow, I know he is. And I'm right because as soon as I enter the living area, he calls to me and shouts 'Good morning'. I give him a small smile, hoping he interprets it as nerves and not suspicions, finding that I cannot act natural around him anymore. Sitting down, I wolf down food as quickly as possible, draining two cups of hot chocolate. Zaine chuckles as I eat, finding it funny. I shoot him a glare, wondering if he'd be chuckling if he knew the reason _why _I was eating so quickly.

"So, are you scared? For the assessment?"

I want to wipe away his smirk. "Why would I be?"

"One, you're a girl. Two, you're a girl from District 3; the most you could do is electrocute someone to death, _providing _you found the materials to do so. Three, you've barely trained at all – like, seriously, what have you even learnt?"

"I could climb a tree."

"Until the Careers shot you down."

I snort, "Did you not watch the 74th Hunger Games? And besides, I've seen Thalia, Baron and Terra at training – they can't do shit." I purposely miss out Noah's name.

He raises an eyebrow. "And District 4?"

I glare at him. "They're as good as dead men walking."

He runs a hand through his hair. He speaks then, his voice low and quiet; deadly. "And Noah?"

I falter. "... No. He won't be a problem either."

"And me?" He grins at me, his elbows on the table as he leans forward in his seat. That same look is there again.

I swallow my food, feeling as if I'll just vomit it back up.

"I'm just hoping that one of us dies before we have the chance to meet."

I'm only half-lying; and as I walk away, putting my bowl in the sink for washing, my mind sneers, _Rip him apart before he rips you_.

* * *

**I know, I'm evil. I don't know why I'm making Zaine out to be the bad guy here. Or maybe he isn't? Maybe he'll be the dark horse or something? Oh, and for people who think they know where this is going - you probably don't. I have a lot in store for my characters (I'm sorry, my characters, I like playing with you) and I'm not afraid to do anything - lol note that at the moment I'm writing psychological horror where basically all the characters are dead, end up dying, or are not real XD **

**Be anticipating the ending! It'll only be another two or three chapters before Akia is the Arena, and then there's only, what, around ten chapters left? And then possibly an epilogue? So the end is nigh (not really, but we're just a bit less than halfway) my friends. **

**Until next chapter! Review!**

**-R**


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